Belonging
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: AU - When Jonathan dies unexpectedly, a shocked country is plunged into mourning. But the question of succession arises, and the answer is far from welcome. Warning of a little slash. The fic is set in 444 HE.
1. Ripple Effect

The plot for this fic was filched from the wonderful Lea. This chapter was betaed by Quatre-Sama, who deserves a medal of somesort.

* * *

Cythera was quite sure that there had never been silence like this before. It was a silence that seemed to reach inside every one of them, so that even the idea of words seemed utterly ridiculous. 

Movement, too, appeared an insensible notion. Her eyes flickered to settle on Alanna, who was fixated on either her boots or her hands, the latter clasped together in a prayerful manner. She had seen Alanna before when her friends were in danger. Then, the Lioness was everywhere at once, trying to fix things, trying to help. This time, however, Alanna had managed a rueful smile and muttered that nobody needed her getting in the way.

Maybe it was because it mattered so much more this time.

Maybe it was because it was Jonathan.

Alanna glanced up, catching Cythera's gaze, and Cythera looked away again quickly. It was too painful to maintain eye-contact right now.

For want of a better thing to do, she rose, crossing to the window. She was well-practised in the art of feeling useless, being as she was so often in the company of more intelligent, braver and more powerful people. Even so, she couldn't help wishing there was something that she could do, some way that she could make this easier on everybody.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sacherell. Her two boys were much graver this last visit. Even before the accident, Douglass had barely cracked a single joke. Not even the arrival of their year mate Geoffrey had lifted their spirits. Something was dreadfully amiss, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Sacherell managed a sort of smile, mouthing, "Are you all right?"

Cythera nodded, watching Douglass claim Sacherell once more, with an apologetic look her way. The two usually took care not to touch each other too much in public, but this was an exception. She didn't blame them. She felt bereft standing there on her own, and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she knew what was happening.

The door opened to admit Gary. He looked so much older than he had earlier that very morning, with a greying complexion and troubled eyes.

Everybody looked up at him with undisguised, desperate hope on their faces. Cythera almost couldn't bear it.

"It won't be long now," he said quietly. "Thayet and the children are saying their goodbyes at the moment."

Alanna shut her eyes, turning away from the room and putting her head in her hands.

Before Cythera was aware of Gary moving, he had appeared at her side, wrapping his arms around her waist, as though he were trying to meld their bodies together. She bit her lip, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

"Was it very bad?" she asked quietly, more breathing the words than saying them.

She felt him nod, felt his arms tighten, even felt him swallow. "He was so – so helpless, Cyth. I couldn't – I can't bear it. It's just – for all the ways for him to, to, well..."

He trailed off, his voice failing him, but Cythera understood. Of all the ways for Jonathan to die, this appeared to be the most unjust. Jon was the type of king – the type of person, really – who had seemed able to get through anything. If he had to die at all, Cythera thought it would be most fitting for him to die in battle, fighting for the country he loved so much. Not whilst out riding.

His death would mirror his father's in an almost painful manner, she reflected. They had thought they'd been lucky to find Jonathan still alive, but the fall had damaged him even beyond Duke Baird's repair. Still they might have tried, had Jonathan not shaken his head and bidden the healers to take their leave.

Cythera's thoughts had preoccupied her so much that she had not noticed the door opening once more until Gary stiffened, straightening up.

Thayet stood in the doorway, ghostly white save for her eyes, which looked as though they had been scrubbed raw.

She gulped, tears streaming freely down her face. She snatched up a handful of her hair, convulsing into sobs every time she tried to speak. Cythera bit her lip, watching helplessly as Thayet swayed on her feet.

"He's gone. He's dead."

Cythera slid her arms around Gary, feeling him tremble.

And all at once, everybody burst into action, hovering around Thayet, offering words of comfort that sounded much better than anything Cythera could think of. Alanna had stormed out, but that was only to be expected.

"Can we leave?" Gary asked urgently, tugging at Cythera.

Cythera took a look at the crowd around Thayet, hesitating between her duties to the Crown, her friend and her husband. Finally deciding that Gary's need was greater (Thayet after all had several others to offer their condolences), she nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the room, unaware that Thayet's eyes followed her all the way.

* * *

Cythera closed the bedroom door behind her. She was sure that she had done the right thing by leaving. Gary would have almost certainly left even if she hadn't, and he clearly needed company at a moment like this. 

"What was it like?" she asked gently, watching him sink down onto the bed.

He held his arms out to her. "Come over here," he requested.

Cythera hesitated for a moment and then crossed the room. He pulled her onto his lap, his arms tight around her, brushing the hair from her face with one hand. After it became very apparent that he had no intention of answering her question, she tried, "At least you got to say goodbye."

Gary stiffened at that and she bit her lip, wondering how she was going so horribly wrong. He made a forcible effort to relax, but his eyes were pained even as he leaned forward to kiss her.

She pushed him away, determined to make him talk about this, and hoping that it would make him feel better about it. "Gary..."

He shook his head. "Please, Cythera. I - _can't_."

This time as he kissed her, she let him. She let his hands work their way around to her ties and when he pulled away, a question in his eyes, she simply nodded, feeling slightly sick to her stomach as he continued.

Perhaps he would be more open to talking tomorrow.


	2. Stately Intervention

Betaed by Kirsty. This takes place one month after the first chapter, in September 444._

* * *

_

_I would first like to extend condolences on behalf of my country upon hearing of the unfortunate death of King Jonathan IV last month. _

I also feel it is my duty to remind you of a Tortallan law concerning your monarchy. For your convenience, I have paraphrased the relevant section, which states that any king under the age of fourteen cannot lawfully ascend the Tortallan throne.

Should you be planning to instate Prince Roald as King in his father's place, his reign would be considered illegitimate and as such, Carthak would feel honour-bound to intervene. Further, as I am sure you are aware, the Tortallan position on regents means that his mother will be unable to act as regent until such time as he reaches his majority.

His Excellency has suggested a solution to the problem, which I will put to you now since I believe it will benefit both parties. The Emperor proposes to forge an alliance through marrying Thayet of Conté. Such an alliance would mean the incorporation of Tortall into the Southern Empire and Prince Roald would become the heir to His Most Serene Majesty.

We would appreciate your immediate response, since I am sure you can understand this is a most delicate matter.

_

* * *

_

Thayet rubbed her temples. "I don't suppose that has 'only joking' at the end?" she asked wearily. She should have taken more of an interest in foreign affairs rather than in the Riders; Jonathan had usually dealt with Carthak before. She bit her lip, looking up at her companions to judge their responses.

Gareth shook his head. "Unfortunately not. I particularly liked the bit about Carthak feeling 'honour-bound' to make us part of her empire."

"And having my son as Ozorne's heir. Perhaps they think we didn't notice what happened to their line of succession," Thayet said dryly.

"My favourite bit was the marriage proposal," Douglass interjected, resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin up with his hands. "Not the most romantic thing I've ever heard, admittedly, but whatever floats the Carthaki navy."

Thayet sighed. "And that is precisely our problem - the navy." She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. "I can't deal with this now, not at all. Their timing is faultless." She took her hands away from her eyes and looked at the Duke, trying to determine how best to ask for help without sounding desperate. "I dislike sounding incapable of coping, but do you have any suggestions about what we should do?"

Gareth reached across the table and covered one of her hands with his. "You're doing a wonderful job and you're coping magnificently. The Carthaki have just spied a crack, that's all, and they want to exploit it."

Thayet nodded, her eyes darting to Douglass, unwilling to admit in front of a man she barely knew that inside she wasn't coping at all, that inside she felt empty and lost. Douglass generally kept away from the Court (Thayet had heard numerous explanations for this, but none of them seemed to fit this cheerful, open man), but he had returned to Corus just before Jonathan had died and was most often found by Duke Gareth's side, allowed into every meeting the Duke attended, or so the servants reported.

She struggled to remember what they had been discussing, realising with a pang that this never would have happened if Jonathan had been there. She frowned, thinking of something. "Could we perhaps send for Numair Salmalín? He might have an idea of how best to deal with Ozorne."

Douglass nodded and vanished from the room. Thayet was just considering how best to broach the question of his reliability with the Duke when Douglass arrived back with Numair in tow. As they bowed, Thayet tried to conceal her surprise at his speed, but evidently did not succeed judging by the twitching corners of Gareth's mouth.

Wordlessly, she handed Numair the letter, watching his face closely. He scanned it, a crease in his forehead becoming evermore evident as he read on. Finally, he set it down.

"As opportunistic as ever," the mage remarked.

Thayet grimaced. "So it seems. Have you any ideas?"

Numair tapped his fingers against his mouth. "Perhaps. Have you got a copy of this law?" Douglass promptly passed him a scroll and Thayet inwardly pulled a face at not having thought of that. Jon would have.

She waited impatiently for Numair to finish reading. She couldn't marry Ozorne and she couldn't risk a war. There had to be a better way; there was a better way, she just hadn't found it yet.

"The problem seems to be that her Majesty cannot be the _sole _regent of the Prince," the mage mused, sounding as though he was thinking aloud. "In that case, there is an alternative that presents itself. It still means marriage for your Majesty, I'm afraid. That part is unavoidable. It seems the Tortallans who created these laws were deeply suspicious of too much foreign influence within their country, which often happens in the case of arranged marriages, say, if the bride were to poison her king and then use her children effectively as puppets. Unfortunately, there isn't a way to change this, seeing as there is no authentic leader at this point in time, and any attempt on your part to alter it could be misconstrued far too easily."

Thayet paused, attempting to figure out whether he had made a point or not. She half-smiled, realising he hadn't. "And the alternative?" she prompted.

Numair paused, rereading the text. "Marriage to a Tortallan noble. He should be somebody who was close to the late king, possibly with a tie to the Prince as well. Obviously, he'd have to be well-known as well as being a high-born noble for blood purity. For convenience, you'd need him to be well-respected so that either the conservatives or the progressives don't kick up a fuss and then the effects of your foreign origins are reduced. You would then be able to act as regent for Roald alongside your husband."

Thayet's mind was reeling at the prospect of remarriage and she blinked at Numair a few times before processing what he had said. To stave off thoughts of disrespect to Jonathan's memory, not to mention disloyalty, she said, "Well, nobody comes to mind."

"Raoul may well do," Douglass suggested.

"Knight-Commander Raoul?" Numair shook his head. "Goldenlake isn't significant enough, not to mention that he would be considered to be too progressive in the eyes of many noblemen. Besides which, choosing a warrior may antagonise other nations, which Tortall cannot afford."

There was silence again, and Thayet was reluctantly running through the line of succession after Roald when Gareth said, "Gary. It has to be Gary."

Thayet's head snapped up, her eyes fixing on the Duke in surprise. He couldn't have meant his son. "Gary? It can't be Gary. Gary's married."

"Gary is the only person. He's the heir to a duchy, Prime Minister, Jonathan's cousin and Roald's godsfather. There is nobody else."

Thayet bit her lip. She couldn't marry Gary, it was impossible. Only, she couldn't think of anybody half as perfect to offer as an alternative.

"Worse things have been done for kingdoms than the breaking up of a happy marriage," the Duke told her kindly. "Gary will understand. He knows sacrifices have to be made occasionally."

"He has no children," Numair mused. "Could we not say the marriage went unconsummated?"

Douglass shook his head. "Impossible. They are, ah, lacking in discretion on occasion. One cannot help but be reminded of bunnies. But perhaps we could say she's barren."

Thayet pressed her hand to her mouth. "Is that entirely necessary?" she enquired, wishing that she felt more prepared for this conversation. "Gary is Roald's uncle, if he is the most appropriate candidate to act as Roald's regent, he can surely do so without being married to me."

"I doubt Ozorne would accept Gary as the sole regent," Douglass answered. "Gary is not of royal blood himself; he just strengthens your own claim as regent."

Gareth nodded. To Thayet, he said, "It is the best course of action. Gary will want to see his nephew on the throne. The heirs after your children cannot even be considered."

"Fine," Thayet said, rising. "I will arrange to go to Naxen at once."

Duke Gareth and Douglass exchanged a look. Douglass also got to his feet. "Pardon me, your Majesty, but I think it would be best if I went. Gary and I have been friends for years. Also, at the speed the royal carriage travels, he'll have a garbled version of this before you reach the edge of Corus."

Thayet nodded, feeling suddenly wrong-footed. Now Gary would think it had been her idea. Nevertheless, Douglass was right. "You will express my apologies at this resolution?"

"From the bottom of my heart," he replied, sweeping her a bow. "Be assured that I shall return with all due haste."


	3. The Undeserving

Betaed by Anya and Kat. This takes place in October 444. **The chapter contains slash** - that's homosexual - **implications**.

* * *

"Gary. Gary, love, wake up." 

Gary muttered something unintelligible, which might have been intended to mean 'be with you in a second'. He grunted something and then rolled over, facing where he thought Cythera's voice had come from without opening his eyes. "'M awake," he mumbled. "Where's the fire?"

Cythera laughed, but even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was nervous. He squinted at her and caught sight of a tray laden with food. Immediately, he sat bolt upright.

"Oh no."

Her expression was far too innocent. "Is something the matter?"

He eyed her suspiciously. Although she was still dressed in the traditional mourning colours, she wore her gown with the puffed sleeves that she knew he liked. She was perched on the end of their bed, presumably so that she could exit easily, and she was smiling apprehensively. And then there was the tray.

There was something very wrong.

Gary helped himself to a peach, figuring he could eat and interrogate at the same time. "What is it? Did you burn down the stables? Have all the servants mysteriously vanished?" He paused mid-bite. "Are Douglass and Sacherell in the vicinity?"

She smiled and looked down at her skirts, smoothing them. "No. I just thought..."

"You'd fatten me into submission? Oh, Mithros." He smacked his forehead as realisation sank in. "She's coming, isn't she?"

Cythera carefully avoided his eyes. "If you mean my sister by that, yes. And she's not as bad as you think. She just wants to offer her condolences."

He greeted this with a snort and held his hand out for the letter. With slight reluctance, she handed it over. "Not that bad? Listen to this, 'Lady Alayne wears the most atrocious dresses that I have ever laid eyes on. I swear she gets them made especially to plague me.'" An incredulous note crept into his voice as he read on, failing to notice his wife turning pink. "'She claims to be helping the orphans of her fief, but really I think she'd do better to give her clothes to the children and be done with it. She could conduct herself so much better in this period of tragedy for the country.'"

"She was joking," Cythera muttered uncomfortably.

"She had better be. Sometimes I can't believe the two of you are related," Gary said with a sigh, tossing the letter back to her. "Fine. She can come. Let her do whatever she wants, but I'm inviting Grandmother as your punishment."

Satisfied, Cythera leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh, your grandmother's a pushover. You should appreciate her while she's around anyway."

"You've been saying that for years. She'll outlive us all, you mark my words."

At that moment, the door to their room burst open and Douglass flounced in. "My, my, that's service for you. I send notice of my arrival and do you even bother to arrange anything? Do you even tell your servants? No!"

By now, they were too used to Douglass appearing unannounced to even act surprised. "Sending notice doesn't help if you're going to arrive before the notice comes," Gary pointed out, taking another bite out of his peach.

"Well, that's true, I suppose," Douglass said, relenting. "Cythera, darling, your delightful sister is due to arrive herself this evening and she sent a checklist of things to be done." He offered her an envelope. "I think you'd better get started now."

Cythera sighed good-naturedly and took the envelope. "I'll leave you to talk," she said, kissing Gary and getting off the bed. "And don't worry, dear, I won't give her everything she wants."

"She will," Gary confided to Douglass as soon as she had left the room. "And anything else she thinks Roxanne would like."

Douglass nodded and tugged at his hair. "Ah, Gary. I have to say, I don't quite know where to begin."

"What is it?" Gary asked quickly, alarmed. "Is it Thayet - one of the children? Or Father?"

Douglass rubbed his face, replacing Cythera at the end of the bed. "In a way, all of the above. You see, Gary... Carthak have developed an interest in Tortall. An unhealthy interest, even for Carthak. They sent Thayet a letter saying all sorts of things. Specifically, they referred to a law which states that a king must be above the age of fourteen in order to legally take the throne. Obviously, Roald is ten years too young. They..." He hesitated, glancing down at his hands. "They threatened Tortall with war if we ignore them and make Roald King."

Gary paled, instantly calculating costs in his head. "War? We can't - there's - there's no way."

"They did offer another solution. They claimed they would solve the problem by making Tortall the newest inclusion to the Carthaki Empire - that is, by Thayet marrying the emperor."

Gary swore. "That's impossible; they know that as well as we do. She can't marry him. He'll ruin Tortall; _everything_ that Jon built up will be gone." His voice cracked slightly on the mention of his cousin's name - he preferred not to talk about Jon if he could. The memories were still too raw just now.

Douglass nodded. "We know that, Gary. But there's only one other way."

"Nothing can be worse than that or _war_," said Gary, leaning back against the headboard, his face turning greyer by the second. "What is it?"

Douglass bowed his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "We found a loophole in the law. Thayet will have to marry a Tortallan noble, who is well-known abroad and respected, with ties to the royal family, and then Roald can be instated as king."

"And who have you decided?" Gary asked levelly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Douglass glanced up, sharply. "Oh, come on, Gary," he said impatiently.

"No."

"Gary, take a second to _think_. I love Cythera dearly. Really, I do, but the fact is, she's given you no children. In the eyes of the law, that's practically a failed marriage. You know the alternatives. You know what will happen to Tortall if you refuse. Think of Roald. Think of-" He had been about to say 'Jonathan', but changed it to, "Thayet."

Gary's lips tightened, his mouth whitening around the edges. "Get Alanna to do it," he replied coldly.

"You're being ridiculous, Gary."

Gary gave him a cool look, his whole face tense. "I think I'd like you to leave me alone right now."

Douglass nodded. "As you wish. Just... take the time to think about what I said."

* * *

Sacherell watched the figure pacing in a circle for a while and then headed over to him. "Is this your way of getting more exercise? There are easier, far more preferable ways, you know." 

Douglass didn't even crack a smile. He just paused and looked at Sacherell helplessly. "I-" He broke off, half-shrugging.

"You what?" Sacherell asked, concerned. "What's the matter?"

Douglass let out a sigh, resuming his pacing. Sacherell fell into step beside him. "It's one of those shoot-the-tactless-messenger situations."

"Tactless? You?" Sacherell teased gently. "I don't dare to believe it. What did you deliver?"

Douglass rubbed his eyes. "The Carthaki have stuck their noses into Tortall. Gary and Thayet will have to marry to keep the peace."

Sacherell caught Douglass's arm, pulling him to a halt. "Hang on, Gary and Thayet will have to _what _now?"

"Marry. The Duke and I knew as soon as we saw the letter, but we let Thayet - well, Numair come up with the solution himself. It's just - you should have seen Gary's face."

Sacherell gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze, glancing around surreptitiously. "What did he say?"

"Not much. Told me to leave. I don't think he'll speak to me again."

"Are you surprised?"

"No. Well, mildly surprised to still be alive."

Sacherell nodded. "You did what you thought was best. Gary will see that. And if he doesn't, I'll protect you."

Douglass managed a smile. "I don't deserve you."

"Nonsense."


	4. Delicate Dealings

Betaed by Maddy and Kat.

* * *

Naxen had been in a frenzy of activity, trying to prepare for Roxanne's arrival. Finally, as mid-afternoon grew into early evening, Cythera pronounced everything to be perfect. 

But Roxanne did not come that evening. Or the next.

In fact, a whole week went past before the lady finally deigned to appear. When the servant announced her carriage had been seen at the gates, Cythera threw her husband a smile, which he did not return. She dismissed the uncomfortable feeling with difficulty. Gary had been acting strangely all week; at times he was tender and sweet, but all of a sudden, he'd be distant. It had something to do with Douglass's visit, she was sure of it, but he wouldn't tell her what.

"Darling Cythera!"

Cythera had difficulty not gaping at her sister. Modesty had never really been Roxanne's strong point, but this was pushing it. There was no sombre, plain gown for Roxanne. She wore a black dress of crinkled silk, with sapphires (apparently in honour of the late king) running along the neckline. A heavy black shawl was draped around her shoulders, extravagantly embroidered in lavender. Black gloves reached her elbows, setting off the two sapphire rings on her fingers, and a delicate lace handkerchief dangled from her fingers. Her hair, from what Cythera could see, was tied in an elaborate fashion and partially covered with lavender-coloured cloth.

Gary stiffened and then snorted derisively. Cythera winced as he abruptly left the room without so much as a word to her sister.

Roxanne, evidently oblivious to the effect her mourning outfit was having, sucked in her cheeks. "Yes, he might well be ashamed to show his face in front of me! And the sheer nerve of what he's doing to you, dearest sister."

Roxanne reached out a hand to Cythera, but the blonde did not look grateful in any way. "_Doing_ to me?" she repeated, her cheeks flushing. "Roxanne, his cousin only died two months back, have a little _respect_, please!"

Conveniently, Roxanne did not appear to have heard this last bit, for she did not react to it, but instead prodded Cythera with her (black) fan. "And you! I can hardly believe you're still here!"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Cythera enquired, her tone becoming frosty.

Roxanne drew herself up. "Have you no _self_-respect?"

Cythera, easily the taller of the two, raised an eyebrow. "If you do not wish to explain yourself, you may leave," she said pleasantly.

"Oh, you do vex me sometimes!" Roxanne exclaimed. Having failed to gain the upper ground through her (not so) imposing height, she settled herself in a chair. "Surely you know of what I am speaking."

Mutely, Cythera shook her head and waited for Roxanne to explain herself.

"Of the marriage!" This did not have the effect on Cythera that Roxanne had been looking for. Instead of looking even vaguely interested, Cythera simply stared at her sister. It was fortunate that Roxanne never needed much encouragement. "Apparently Duke Gareth offered himself to Thayet, but she wouldn't have him, so he threatened her with civil war unless she agreed to marry Gary."

Cythera's mouth twitched and she burst out laughing. "You – can't believe – _that_."

Roxanne furled and unfurled her fan, her mouth pursing. "It's true."

"It's not true," Cythera said, smiling.

Roxanne's face softened. She dropped her fan and stood, looking uncertain as to whether to hug Cythera or not. "I asked the Duke. He wouldn't tell me the particulars, I had to get them from somebody else, but he did say it was a regrettable situation and he was sorry your marriage had to end this way."

All of the colour drained from Cythera's face. She attempted to maintain her smile. "It's not true," she repeated.

"I thought he would have told you," Roxanne said quietly. "I would have approched it differently otherwise."

Cythera's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "He can't know – he would have told-" She put her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. "Douglass. Of course." She closed her eyes, not bothering to brush away the few tears which had fallen. There was definitely something wrong, she'd known that before, but it couldn't be what Roxanne said it was, it just couldn't.

Then what?

"I have to see him," she said aloud. She wiped her eyes hurriedly and brushed down her dress. "It's a mistake; something's been miscommunicated, misunderstood. I have to see him."

She pushed past Roxanne, who offered no protest, and opened the door to the library. Gary didn't look up as she came in. Finally, she spoke instead of waiting for him.

"I'm confused."

He let out a hard laugh. "I'm not surprised. Is Madam pretending she was Jon's one true love?"

Cythera gritted her teeth against the insult to her sister and took in a deep breath, her eyelids flickering shut. Telling herself that wasn't what Roxanne had said didn't stop the lump rising in her throat. "What did Douglass say to you when he came?"

Gary kept his eyes trained on his book, though she saw his fingers tightening their grip on the pages. "Ask Roxanne. Doesn't she know everything?"

"Stop that," Cythera said, though she wasn't sure whether she was addressing him or her trembling knees. "What's been wrong with you this week?"

He looked up at her then and sighed. "Oh, Cythera, I'm sorry. It's just difficult; seeing Douglass again reminded me how much I miss Jon." He held his hand out to her.

She ignored his hand, not entirely sure she could move without her legs giving way under her. She could feel herself shaking all over now, but she made herself ask, "So, it wasn't that he was delivering a message from your father?"

Gary froze, his face guarded.

"It wasn't that your father had ordered you to finish our marriage?" Cythera asked the bookcase nearest her, finding it easier to look at that rather than at Gary.

He stood and crossed the room, gripping her arms and looking intently into her face. "Cythera, what have you been told?"

Her face crumpled, but she managed - just about - to keep a steady tone. "Then it's true? I don't understand… Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not true," Gary said flatly, wrapping his arms around her. "I won't let them drag you into this silly succession game. They'll just have to find somebody else."

"Succession game? I thought-" She blushed faintly, realising that it really_ wasn't _what Roxanne had said. "I thought it was to prevent a civil war."

"A civil war?" he queried, pulling back to look at her.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Roxanne said Thayet had refused to marry your father when he proposed, but consented to have you to appease him. I guessed that wasn't the whole truth."

He laughed, tenderly brushing stray hairs away from her face. "Oh, no, nothing like that. We'll set off for Corus tomorrow and sort this whole mess out, all right?"

Cythera nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad. I don't think I could bear it if I lost you."

"You won't," he soothed, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Thayet sat cross-legged on her bed, her head in her hands. 

"Will you be all right now?" the midwife asked.

Thayet took her hands from her face and nodded wearily, managing a smile. "Yes, quite all right, thank you, Eleni."

Eleni gave her a final, scrutinising look and left the room, passing Douglass on the way out. He bowed deeply to her and kissed her hand, then turned his attention to Thayet.

His bow to her was at least genuine and his face showed he was ready to discuss Gary. "I hope your Majesty will pardon the intrusion. I just returned from Naxen and I was told to attend you straight-away."

"Ah, yes. Pay no attention to the informality with which I am forced to receive you, if you would," Thayet said, rising to her feet. "But thank you for your prompt return."

Douglass's eyes passed over the shadows under her eyes. "Your Majesty has been keeping well, I trust?"

"As well as can been expected," Thayet replied, trying not to shift uncomfortably. She almost felt like he knew, but told herself she was just being silly. "What news do you have?"

He hesitated and she braced herself. "Sir Gareth made no objection to the proposal."

Thayet couldn't help but stare at him. She had been banking on Gary raising a whole stream of objections at the very least and then perhaps coming up with a solution to this whole mess. "No objections?" A sudden suspicion entered her mind. "I take it you asked him?"

"Oh, yes." Douglass looked distinctly awkward. "I did ask him; otherwise, I believe there would have been no point in my going at all."

Thayet frowned. "And what exactly did he say?"

"He, ah, well, he told me I could take my leave," Douglass admitted. "But the important thing to remember is that he raised no objections."

Thayet's lips curled into an ironic smile. "Despite his not being receptive of the idea."

"Not yet, no. But I believe it will be only a matter of time."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Only a matter of time until he finds an alternative answer," she said.

"He knows his duty."

Thayet touched her hand to her stomach self-consciously. "Yes, I realise that. That's all everybody's been telling me, that I'm his duty." She glanced up at him, biting her lower lip but releasing it almost instantly, as though she were ashamed of the childish gesture. "He does understand that I don't want to force him to do this, I assume?"

Douglass shrugged. "Possibly. He wasn't responding particularly well to reason when I left Naxen."

She didn't look particularly surprised. "I shall have to write to him, explain that I'll marry the first man I see if he wishes," she said, half to herself.

"In that case, I shall endeavour to remain within eyesight," Douglass replied promptly with an impish grin.


	5. Breaking

Thanks to Anya and Kat for betaing this, and Magechild for her helpful comments.

* * *

As the sun shot streaks of white gold through the pale wintry sky, a carriage rounded the bend in the drive and came to a halt by the east wing of the palace. The first figure to exit gave the palace a cautious look, missing the face at the window, before reaching in to help his companion out.

A woman emerged, her ash blonde hair looking brighter than usual against her dark mourning cloak. She tripped on the step and held onto him to steady herself, their breath steaming in the cold air as they laughed. Sobriety hit them all too soon; the woman pulled back, shivering theatrically, and tugged her cloak more tightly around her. She gestured to the palace, clearly intending for the man to go ahead. He nodded and turned her face back toward him, giving her a kiss. She pushed him away, speaking again, a note of urgency in her voice, and when the man disappeared into the building she wiped at her eyes hurriedly.

A wry smile twisted Duke Gareth's lips as he moved away from the window. So, his son had come at last, and he had brought Cythera.

He sighed, sitting down at his desk. Gary was not going to make this easy. Of course, he hadn't expected it to be easy. In truth, he had anticipated a little more opposition from Thayet, but it seemed that she had enough preoccupying her these days.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Gary.

"Morning, Gary," the Duke greeted, busying himself with shuffling through his papers, looking for the letter from Carthak. He placed it on top of the scroll containing the law.

The door clicked shut as Gary closed it, but he did not come any closer. "You don't seem surprised to see me."

"Does that surprise you?" Gareth asked. "I am a little shocked, I must confess. I thought you would come to berate me as soon as Douglass broke the news to you."

Gary shrugged, rubbing his forehead. "I was hoping you'd find somebody else. I guess I underestimated you. Although, I had assumed that something like telling Roxanne would be beneath you."

"When has ignoring anything ever made it better?" his father asked, looking critically at his son.

Gary's face worked for a moment, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't. Finally, he offered a rueful smile. "Never. I figured there was a first time for everything."

"And in the meantime, if Cythera happened to get pregnant..." the Duke pressed, his eyes suddenly sharp. Gary had begun to slouch, but shot upright, directing a venomous look at him.

There were a few moments of silence in which Gary narrowed his eyes at his father and Gareth, realising he had struck the nail on the head, waited patiently. When Gary spoke, his voice was level and controlled. "Can you blame me for wanting to stay with the woman I married?"

"No. Gary, believe me, if there was any other way..."

"I know, I know." Gary let out a bitter laugh, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. "If there was any other way, you would never let your son be used, right?"

"Better my son than the sons of hundreds of other men and women dying because of a war we could have prevented," Duke Gareth said quietly. "But I'm sure they'll understand if we tell them you just couldn't _quite_ do your bit."

Gary set his jaw, his lips turning white. "Raoul," he suggested hoarsely, his eyes glistening. "Cecil of Nond, Padraig haMinch."

"No, Gary. They won't do. None of them have what you have, surely you must see that!"

Gary rested his forehead on his knees. "Is there anything else to see?"

"War. Famine. Poverty. You can see those things if you choose." The Duke leaned forward, something in his tone compelling Gary to look up. "If you refuse to marry Thayet and war breaks out, you and Cythera are not going to escape unscathed."

Gary nodded wearily, examining the wooden floor as he sorted his thoughts. "A month," he said finally. "Give me a month."

"Fine. One month. But that is all, and I am writing to Carthak to tell them of our decision."

Gary opened his mouth to object but fell silent again. "All right."

* * *

Cythera had headed straight for the Naxen room after Gary had left her. She hadn't bothered unpacking; she sensed she wouldn't be staying long. Instead, she sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair - or trying to. She kept starting at every small noise. The mirror had earlier been angled so it didn't show her reflection, but rather gave her a clear view of the door so she would therefore have a clear view of her visitor.

Five minutes had barely passed before there was a sharp rapping at the door.

Cythera hastily readjusted her mirror and called, "Come in," trying to inject the right amount of curiosity into her voice.

It was Sacherell. She had guessed it would be Douglass, but Sacherell probably made more sense, seeing as Douglass had already had to deliver the news to Gary. She turned to face him, fully prepared for the onslaught of reason and emotion and ready to be gradually persuaded.

It didn't happen that way, because it was Sacherell standing there awkwardly, unwilling to break the silence. Sacherell, quieter and more sensible than his blond counterpart, never knew how to begin, but always knew how to end.

"Oh, Cyth," he said finally.

All of a sudden, she found her bottom lip was trembling. She had resolved to be cool and collected, but it didn't seem to be happening that way. She rubbed her nose, trying desperately not to dissolve into tears when that was all she really wanted to do.

Sacherell had crossed the room without her noticing and caught her up in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry for you."

Cythera drew in a shuddering breath, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'll be fine when it's over," she said when she could force her voice to be steady. "It's just - I don't quite know where to begin."

He shifted slightly so her head was resting more comfortably on his shoulder. "I know you'll be fine." He paused, gently wiping her fallen tears with his fingertips. "Do you want to come to Veldine with us? We're supposed to leave tomorrow, but we could postpone it a day or two if you'd like."

She considered it, and then shook her head. "Maybe later on. I'm going to go to Meron and then I can avoid all the well-wishers and have Roxanne listing every bad thing about Gary and Thayet that she's been storing up. It won't help, but it'll start me thinking about their good points again."

"And Gary won't follow you to Meron," Sacherell added shrewdly, not missing the point.

"Precisely."

"His father was waiting for him; we've been ready for your arrival for a while. I suppose Corus reminds him too much of Jon."

Cythera hesitated and pulled away from him, sitting gingerly at the end of the bed, all too aware it wasn't hers any more. "Possibly. But - he hasn't really mentioned Jon since the accident. When anybody does, he just gets angry and closes up. It's just - it's strange."

Sacherell shrugged. "That's how some people deal with grief, I guess."

"I suppose. It's just, it's almost more than that; it's as though he blames Jon."

"Perhaps he does. If Jon hadn't died, Gary wouldn't have to leave you, would he? That's reason enough for him to blame Jon, unfair as it is," Sacherell pointed out calmly.

There was a flicker of emotion in Cythera's eyes, but it was swiftly hidden as she lowered her lashes. "True," she said simply. Her voice was a little unsteady as she continued, "You should go now, Sach, he might be back soon."


	6. Fragile Endings

This is the chapter of many betas.  
The first part was run past my LJ friends list (or, uh, most of them). It went through Jude and Ashlinn, and was then betaed by Anya and Kat. I love you all.

* * *

Gary stared at the door, not quite able to enter the room just yet. It seemed alien somehow, as though he had already stopped belonging here. He supposed he had. 

"Mithros, Jon," he murmured, pressing his forehead against the door. "Why did you have to go and die on me so soon?"

He didn't expect a reply and, indeed, he didn't get one. Instead, he reached down and fumbled with the handle, his hands shaking so badly that he couldn't work it at first. Finally, he pushed the door open.

Cythera was sitting on the bed, her posture rigid and her hands gripping the cover tightly as though letting it go would destroy her.

"Hey," Gary said gently, shoving the conversation with his father out of his mind. "Hey now, have you been crying?" He climbed onto the bed and slid his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. The deadened resolve he found in her eyes frightened him a little.

So this was it.

"Who came?" he asked quietly. It was strange; all he felt was numbness spreading through his body and settling as a dead-weight in his stomach. He should have been better prepared, he should have realised they would anticipate his actions and he should have taken Cythera with him to his father. However, this had to be done; perhaps sooner was better than later after all.

Her mouth trembled and Gary watched her trying to school her features into neutrality. "Sacherell. But I already knew it had to happen. It was over when Jon died, Gary. You've not been the same since."

Gary immediately opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words wouldn't come.

In view of his lack of response, Cythera smiled bitterly. "You're doing it now. Blocking me out."

"Father said we could have at least another month together," Gary offered, choosing to ignore her comment. He bit his lip and then continued, "Only, that's beginning to feel like a death sentence rather than a reprieve now."

Cythera nodded and glanced down at her hands in slight surprise as if noticing for the first time how tightly they clenched the fabric. She relaxed her hands and clasped them in front of her. "I think it's best that we get it over with as soon as possible. I asked Sacherell to arrange the annulment for tomorrow."

Gary made to reach out to her but thought better of it. "I can't quite believe we're discussing this so calmly."

"Me neither," Cythera admitted, smiling sadly. "I feel like if I move, I'll shatter onto the floor."

He pursed his lips, struggling to define what he felt, and said finally, "I feel like everything should have stopped by now."

Cythera raised her eyebrows, looking directly at him for the first time since she had begun to talk. He felt a rush sweep through him, painful in its intensity and making him feel sick to his stomach. "Are we competing for most melodramatic statement?"

"Why not? Anything's preferable to the thought that we'll be finished by tomorrow night."

She reached over and squeezed his hand and again he felt the bittersweet sensation of being close to his wife for the last time. A lump rose in his throat and he found himself entirely unable to speak.

"I feel finished. Hollow, right here." She patted her chest with her free hand to demonstrate and attempted a smile. "How does that strike you for melodrama?"

And it was too much. He choked and pressed his knuckles to his mouth, struggling not to say what he really wanted to say, but she was there and their eyes were locked together, and he found he couldn't help himself. The words came tumbling out of his mouth in a mess. "Come with me - Tyra. We'll go to Tyra. Or further - far away. Anywhere. I - _can't_ - I don't want this."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body was shuddering and he felt himself shaking all over too. Awkwardly, he held her, somewhat afraid that now he'd never be able to let her go.

"Tyra sounds good," she whispered into his ear, her voice sounding hoarse. "We'll be in Tyra forever, just you and me."

"No obligations," he agreed, rubbing at his eyes, speaking just as softly as she had, as though they were afraid of being overheard.

"And Roald wouldn't be king."

Instinctively, they broke apart at that, the small comfort they had found shattering instantly. Silence filled the room but Gary couldn't bring himself to break it.

"I think I might need to go for a walk," Cythera said eventually.

Gary nodded, training his eyes on the opposite walls so he wouldn't be tempted to follow her. It wouldn't be good for either of them if he did. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Gary."

* * *

Cythera leaned against the balcony, eyeing the darkening clouds dubiously. There was a part of her that was hoping it wouldn't rain for the next few days because travel in bad weather was always slow and all she wanted to do was get as far away from the palace as possible. The rest of her barely registered anything about her surroundings, being preoccupied with running through the conversation with Gary over and over again. She tweaked the ending each time, seldom content to leave it with the quiet, subdued finish it had really had. Sometimes they actually did run off to Tyra, sometimes Thayet interrupted them. It never ended well. 

She blinked, catching sight of a figure walking through the gardens below. On closer inspection, Cythera could tell by the way the person moved that it was the Queen.

She was caught in a moment of indecision. Thayet was her friend, had been her closest confidante, but she was also the reason that Cythera would have no husband tomorrow.

Not it was Thayet's fault, of course. Nobody's fault, but the designers of that law.

A moment later, it was too late to decide. Thayet had mounted the stairs leading up to where Cythera was. The latter had frozen in place, unable to make a quick escape, when Thayet turned at the top of the stairs and stiffened upon seeing Cythera.

Neither woman spoke. Indeed, Thayet looked as nervous as Cythera felt, but still apparently had use of her legs since she offered Cythera a lukewarm smile and made to move past her.

"I left him," Cythera choked out, knowing it needed to be said despite how the words burned her throat.

Thayet turned, arching an eyebrow at her friend. "I'm sorry?" she asked, concern and then guilt passing over her face. "You left-" She stopped suddenly, giving Cythera an incredulous look. "You left _Gary_?"

Cythera nodded and swallowed hard, struggling to suppress her tears. "I left him," she repeated, fumbling for other words. They didn't come.

Thayet reached out a hand to touch Cythera but withdrew it sharply, pretending she had intended to use it to brush her hair off her face. "When?"

"Just - just now," Cythera said quietly. "We're-" She sniffed, tugging at her sleeve. She could say it. She would. "We're getting the marriage annulled tomorrow."

"So soon?"

_Soon?_ Cythera considered tomorrow to be an eternity away, no matter how much she decided to think about it or to not think about it. "Yes. I'm leaving to visit Roxanne afterwards."

"By yourself?" Thayet enquired, tilting her head on one side and examining the other woman.

Briefly, Cythera struggled not to snap back that _obviously_ she would be by herself. She had thought that Thayet of all people would understand the pain of losing a husband, but it seemed she couldn't relate to Cythera. Or, Cythera amended, maybe it was her fault, and _she_ couldn't relate to Thayet.

"Yes."

Thayet bit her lip and then released it slowly. "Would you come and see me before you go? I'm sure you'll be in no fit state to travel and we should - talk, anyway."

"We should," Cythera agreed, determining it best to end the conversation there and then. She had no intention of going to see her husband's future wife the next day, before or after the annulment. "I should start packing."

Thayet nodded, her eyes bright, looking as though she wanted to embrace Cythera. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."


	7. Empty Reflections

Lan, Maddy and Jude betaed this on short notice and I bugged Kirsty about bits too :) Much love to you all!

* * *

It was over.

Cythera leaned her head against the side of the carriage and closed her eyes.

It was all over.

The very air had been dead that morning when she had entered the magistrate's room. _He_ had already been there and he hadn't looked back at her, had just bent down and begun to sign automatically.

She wished now that she had agreed to go with Sacherell and Douglass. They both would have gone to great lengths to divert her on the road, and she would have had no time to reflect on the paper. When she had left the room, the ink on the page had still been wet from where she'd signed her name, where she'd finished her marriage. The room where the silence had been deafening. She had never felt quite so empty as she did now.

Cythera pressed her cool fingers to her eyes, which felt like they were burning. She would be at Roxanne's soon. Roxanne was distracting enough for anybody.

* * *

"So. You've come to see Cythera."

Raoul was beginning to wish he hadn't. Roxanne had already said that at least seven times - or, well, it felt like it anyway.

"If you'll let me."

"And the Queen sent you? Well, she might well have, though I daresay she's got no remorse for what she's done to my poor sister. She's not left her bed since she arrived, I'll have you know."

Raoul tried very hard not to remark that he really wasn't surprised, given the company that awaited her should she venture downstairs.

It was lucky that Roxanne never expected a response, or Raoul would have been forced to submit to a tirade on the faults of the common man. "She's been crying all this time." Roxanne paused and eyed him critically. He fought the urge to just leave and find Cythera by himself. "When she's not being sick. She's very ill, you understand, this business has been _such_ a blow to her health. If she dies, well, then he will be sorry!"

"Roxanne," Lord Martin said coolly, glancing up from his work. "Cythera is in no danger of dying."

Roxanne looked entirely put-out that she had been undermined. "Yes, quite," she said huffily. "She's just going through what any pregnant woman goes through - I tell you, with my Cornelius, I had the most atro-"

"Cythera's _pregnant_?" Raoul asked, his voice cracking with disbelief.

She seemed pleased that finally, she was having an effect. "And confined to her room, so I'm sure you can see why-"

"Roxanne, I'm her friend," Raoul snapped, tiring of her. "I'm not about to try anything with her."

"Pity," a gap-toothed boy informed him, hanging off the back of one of the large armchairs. "She could use it."

"Telemachus, that is quite enough!" Roxanne said sharply. "Take Lord Raoul up to your aunt _now_."

"I don't _want_ to, he's too _big_," Telemachus whined. "Make Scar do it."

A petite brunette tugged on Raoul's arm. Putting on a show of reluctance at having to leaving Roxanne's side, he gratefully allowed her to drag him off.

"Mama says you have not yet given yourself to marriage because they will not permit you to marry a man," she said brightly. "Is it true?"

He choked on his laughter. "No," he assured her.

"Excellent," Scarlet said, swinging his arm enthusiastically. "I shall allow you to marry me, in that case."

"Thank you," Raoul replied, grinning. "You're too kind."

"It is all right. I was planning to marry the King, but he went and died, so I do not really think that I would like to anymore, so I am available. She is in here."

Raoul blinked. Despite the careful, oddly formal way Scarlet spoke, she had switched topics too fast for him to understand what she meant until she gestured at the door again.

Carefully, he pushed it open, letting out a soft groan when he caught sight of yet _another_ of Roxanne's offspring. They bred like bunnies.

This girl - he vaguely remembered her name being something ridiculous like Alexandrina - got to her feet slowly, gave Raoul a disapproving look and left with her head held high.

Only now did Raoul begin to consider the distinctly uncomfortable possibility that he might not be welcome. The fear was banished instantly, however, on seeing Cythera's face light up.

She pulled herself up in bed, glowing with pleasure. "Raoul!"

He was wondering what he had been worrying about as he knelt at her side and hugged her tightly.

"I can't believe you're here - it's so _good_ to see you."

Raoul pulled back, his grin fading as he got a proper look at her. It was almost as though she was literally wasting away. Her usually glowing complexion was pasty white, her eyes were dull and she looked thinner.

He nearly blurted it out before he thought of a more tactful way to phrase it. "Roxanne says you're pregnant."

She frowned, adjusting her pillow so she could sit up comfortably. "My monthlies are late," she said quietly. "And I can't keep anything down."

"What are you going to do?"

Cythera half-laughed, fixing her eyes on her knees. "Ask a difficult question, why don't you? I don't know. I don't know how to keep Gary from finding out. He wouldn't stay if he did; they're not married yet. He'd come here and I - I wouldn't stop him. And even if he didn't, there would be all these _questions_ and I can't deal with that."

Raoul hadn't meant to say it; it seemed to be his day for inconveniently letting his mouth take charge of his brain. It seemed to slip out in the place of his intended comforting words.

"Marry me."

Her shock was evident as her eyes widened and she sucked in a gasp. "What?"

At that word, he almost took it all back. Almost. This was Cythera, he'd loved her since before Gary had even mentioned he was interested. He had never quite managed to tell her the little things her presence did to him, and that had made it all the more acute somehow.

Raoul had never acted on it, though. He had always told himself that in time, he would get over it - he _had_ to get over it, because she was married to Gary.

Except now, she wasn't.

"Marry me," he repeated, this time with more conviction. "We'll tell people it's my baby, nobody will question it. You'll be safe from the gossips and Gary won't try to come after you."

Cythera nodded and paused for what seemed like an eternity. Raoul tried to wait patiently, but he couldn't. He couldn't bear it; it was as though the very air was pressuring him to prompt her. Instead, he got up and moved to the window, peering out. She was going to say no, and that would be fine, except now they would always remember this moment and he had just driven them further apart.

"All right."

His thought processes had taken him further than the conversation, so he was entirely surprised when she spoke. "I'm sorry?"

"I'll marry you," Cythera confirmed, giving him a small, tremulous smile.


	8. Losing Touch

This chapter was looked over by Caitie, Jude, Kirsty, Lan, LQ and Chrissy in various stages, all of whom I'm very grateful to.

Please be aware that the end of this chapter deals with darker themes.

* * *

It was almost funny. 

Here she was, standing next to a man she didn't want to marry, who didn't want to marry her. He had a former wife who didn't want them to marry. Yet, here they were, in front of people who didn't want them to marry, getting married.

It would have been funny if it was not so sad.

The impact of loss was still heavy on both their features. Thayet glanced at Gary, picking up on his lowered head and his mouth which still turned down at the corners. She let out a sigh, pressing her lips together, pushing the thought of Jonathan away for now. This sham of a marriage was for Roald, and Roald alone.

Briefly, she considered reaching out to Gary, letting him know that she had no desire to take Cythera's place in his heart. She shrugged the idea off. Gary should _know_ this already; she shouldn't have to explain it to him. She wouldn't let him know that he had got to her.

Instead, she moved her hands to brush down her skirts. Gary noticed the gesture and lifted his eyes, looking as though he was about to speak, when he remembered himself and returned his eyes sharply to the front. To all appearances, he was listening intently to the Mithran priest.

Thayet narrowed her eyes at him, barely perceptibly, then returned to examining the room, reluctant to concentrate on the ceremony. It was much simpler than when she had married Jonathan - sombre, almost, though perhaps that was just her mood affecting her perception of it. Although the small chamber was packed, there were significantly less people than last time. She had refused to turn the day into a national event and refused to undertake a Progress, calling it a practicality only.

"You are united together under the watchful eyes of Mithros and the Goddess. From this day forth, you shall be provider and protector for your wife."

Thayet couldn't help an ironic smile. Since _she_ was effectively provider and protector, did that make Gary her wife?

Gary gave her a quizzical look, and _this_ was better, this was more like the Gary and Thayet of before - well, before.

"So mote it be," he said, sounding as though he was trying to prompt her.

"So mote," she added, guessing that she had missed her earlier cue.

The Mithran priest raised his hand, blessing their marriage.

She could have told him not to bother; it was already too late to save it.

* * *

When he returned from changing, he couldn't find her anywhere in the glittering ballroom. For one night, they had lifted the mourning restrictions, and the Court had turned out in their finest clothes to celebrate the royal marriage. Thayet and Gary had decided earlier to take it in turns to change and to play host, but it looked like she had simply vanished. 

He discovered her eventually, though. She was sitting outside the ballroom, her midnight blue skirts twinkling in the dim candlelight. Gary half-smiled and crouched before her, watching her raise her eyes to his, startled. "What are you doing out here?" he chided gently. "This is our wedding, you should be celebrating."

The corners of Thayet's mouth turned down. "Oh, yes, such a momentous, happy occasion that both bride and groom escaped early," she said bitterly.

He closed his eyes, having been about to say that he'd left his first wedding early too. "Well, I escaped to try and find you. That's got to count for something."

The look in her eyes softened and she shifted over on the bench to allow him space to sit next to her. "My shoes are pinching," she offered.

"Why didn't you send a servant for another pair?" Gary asked, pretending not to notice her movement and instead picking up one of the offending shoes off the floor.

She glanced aside, her cheeks flushing. "That wouldn't have helped."

"Are all your shoes too small then?" he pressed, thinking it was a safe subject despite the steeliness in her tone.

Thayet sighed, looking impatient, and stretched out her arm to cover the now empty space on the bench so he couldn't have sat down even if he'd wanted. "No."

"Then surely another pair would solve the problem."

Her mouth compressed tightly and she fiddled with her hair, loosening the grips so it tumbled down around her shoulders. Gary tried very hard not to look at her and instead forced himself to think of Cythera once more, however difficult it was with Thayet's shoe in his hand and Thayet, his wife, in front of him. He dropped the shoe.

"Trust me, it wouldn't help in the slightest," she replied curtly.

He eyed her critically, debating how to respond. Clearly he had upset her but, having not done so before, he had no idea how to go about fixing it. "Did you change subjects without telling me?"

"That depends," she said, leaning her head back so it rested on the top of the bench, exposing her throat. "Were you talking about my pregnancy?"

His eyes rounded and he leaned back on his heels, whistling. "Well, this is a pretty mess," he murmured, half to himself.

Thayet rubbed her eyes, smudging the paint around them and leaving her with black and silver printed on her fingertips. "And before you ask, it's Jon's."

"Well, I didn't think it was mine!" Gary snapped back at her.

* * *

_Cythera tucked her head under his arm, leaning back against him. She played with the end of his sleeve idly, enjoying this time together. It seemed like they never spent any time together anymore, though she knew that couldn't be true. Time had always flown by at Naxen, though. "Do you really have to leave so soon?" she asked quietly. _

_"Yes," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I won't be gone long."_

_"I wish you wouldn't be gone at all."_

_"I know. I do too." He squeezed her gently. "Let's not think of it. Not now."_

_She nodded agreeably and they lay in silence for a few moments. It was only when she could feel him shifting under her that she sat up, reluctantly, her hands instantly going to her hair. "We should probably..." She trailed off, her eyes fixing on her companion in horror._

_Jonathan pulled himself into a sitting position. "You're right," he agreed, even though she hadn't finished her sentence, brushing a hand through his own hair._

_Cythera couldn't manage any words and just stared at him, uncomprehending._

_He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She couldn't help but stiffen as he pressed his lips to her cheek in the way that Gary used to._

_"What's wrong?" he asked, a note of concern entering his voice._

You're wrong_, she wanted to say, but couldn't. Instead, she glanced down at her hands, splaying her fingers out and watching them tremble. He laced his fingers through hers, but they weren't Jonathan's slender fingers. She turned them over and brushed her fingertips over the palm, rough from years of hard work. His hands enclosed hers, bringing them up to his lips for a kiss. _

_She glanced up into Raoul's dark eyes._

You're wrong. 

Cythera awoke with a start. She exhaled shakily, pulling herself upright in bed. The sunlight was already beginning to stream through the shutters. Gingerly, her every movement seeming like an effort, she got to her feet and shuffled to the window, opening the shutters and letting the light sweep over the room.

She made her way over to the pitcher, wincing as she poured herself some water. Her stomach felt like it was burning up.

Cythera hated morning sickness, and this looked to be a particularly bad bout.

She turned back to her bed and dropped the pitcher of water, her hands flying to her mouth.

The bedclothes were stained with blood.

* * *

Colour me shocked and horrified (and very pleased with myself) if you didn't pick up on the Thayet hints in earlier chapters. This chapter was hard to write because ugh, I hate character torture, but I'd always planned it this way. This fic is also my shipping fic, so Cythera's total number of partners is, what, five now? 


	9. Growing Colder

I think Jude probably deserves a medal for listening to me whine about this fic. She's helped with betaing, plotting, and generally ironing out bits. Thanks also to Anya for betaing, and Kat for the characterisation help and rollercoaster analogy.

* * *

For miles around, everything was white. Overnight, trees had received a dusting of snow over their bare branches. The fief's famous lake had frozen over, though the ice was not yet thick enough to skate on.

On the drive, there was a mess of footsteps, some mingling with hoof-prints and wheels whilst others seemed to double back on themselves. One pair in particular caught Raoul's attention. They disappeared over the top of the gently sloping hill, each print deliberately marring the snow's perfection. Raoul set out after them, pausing only when he caught sight of a figure in lavender, huddled against the cold.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he pointed out, crouching down so as to be on her level.

Cythera turned to face him, her eyes troubled. "Sorry?"

He found he wasn't quite brave enough yet. All the heroic things he had ever done, fighting giants, leading the King's Own... they all seemed to melt into nothing at Cythera's feet. He had thought (hoped) that he'd moved on from this gawking, tongue-tied, knock-kneed boy, but it appeared not. Finally, he noticed the way her teeth were chattering and he swiftly unfastened his cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders as he explained, "It doesn't have to be this cold. We have fires inside."

She gave a small, grateful smile at that. "I'll go in soon. I just love the snow. It never came this early at-" She hesitated and dropped her gaze from his, murmuring, "At Naxen," almost too quietly for him to hear, which had most likely been her intention.

Raoul chose to ignore the reference to Naxen in order to save them both. He sat down, figuring she wasn't in a hurry to leave and he might as well make himself comfortable. "I love the snow. Well, despite how difficult it renders other things."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Such as?"

"Keeping warm," he replied instantly, flushing slightly.

"Oh, that's simple enough to fix," she said, sliding her arm around his waist.

Raoul vaguely wondered if his heart would burst, considering the rate it seemed to be pounding. He considered wrapping an arm around her, but figured she might think he was trying to rush her. He knew she still wasn't ready for anything more than a shoulder to cry on. So, instead, he affected a thoughtful expression. "Hmm... No, it's still not quite enough. I'm afraid I'm going to have to seek refuge by a fire."

"Ah, then you refuse to fight?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "No, I refuse to lose, which I assure you is entirely different. And naturally, I refuse for you to lose as well."

"Are you going to force me, then?"

"Well, naturally." He scooped her up in his arms, marvelling at her lightness, but then with her intake of breath, they both froze.

It reminded her of Gary. That much was clear from the look in her eyes.

* * *

If Gary had to pick one thing that he truly missed about his old life, he would have said (aside from the obvious) his anonymity. On the rare occasions that he had picked up on it, it had frustrated him - being known as the King's cousin or the Duke's son. Now, though, now he longed to only _really_ be known to Cythera once more. 

He glanced around, somewhat guiltily, as though Thayet could have caught him thinking about Cythera. Whenever her name came up in conversation, Thayet's eyes flicked instantly to his and they reminded him that she had lost it all too. Cythera was still alive, but Jonathan was not.

He missed Jonathan acutely now that he was back in the palace and forced to think about him, without the more pleasant option of simply avoiding it. The palace seemed empty, as though Jonathan's mere presence had been enough to fill it. Gary supposed that was why Thayet looked so empty now. Even he was beginning to hollow out.

It was ironic, really, that Thayet and he shared so much and yet were not willing to compromise one bit on their disagreements. He knew that if he could just swallow his pride and get on with it, she would do the same.

The problem was, every time he tried to say sorry for the way he'd been acting, it stuck in his throat.

"Darling!"

"Yes, my sweet?" he asked, matching her sardonic tone easily.

"Lord Anjun just came to me with a _very_ interesting problem that he would like me to refer to you, _dearest husband_."

Gary gave her a fleeting look, having improved at reading her enough to judge that set of her jaw meant she was angry with the unfortunate Lord Anjun and not him.

He wasn't entirely sure what game the peerage were playing, by seeking out his wife and telling her they wanted to see him on a matter where the Queen should have more authority. He supposed it was intended to show their displeasure, but he had quite enough to do without catering to their every whim.

The best thing would be for Thayet to sort it out, Gary decided. "Tell him I'm busy and send my regrets. He'll have to take it up with you."

Her hazel eyes were decidedly frosty as they fixed on his. "Do forgive me, dear husband, I mistook your _clearly very important business_ for staring aimlessly at the opposite wall. Regrettably, I am far too busy with my flower arranging to have his lordship take anything up with me." She paused, but he was too astonished to break in. "I give you leave to send my most profuse apologies."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Gary demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. "And, pray tell, since when am I your messenger boy?"

"Since you began acting like a child again," Thayet said flatly, turning away from him. She busied herself by running a finger around the rim of a vase - Gary guessed because she was trying to compose herself. He opened his mouth, but it was she who spoke. "It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I'll give you two."

All Gary's thoughts of apologising flew straight out of his mind as he turned red, clenching his fists by his sides. "_What_?"

Thayet's back stiffened, perhaps realising that she had gone too far. "Did your other wife never tell you to go away?" she asked bitterly. "Is that why you don't understand?"

Gary inhaled sharply, glaring at her. "Don't bring Cythera into this," he said warningly.

Her shoulders shook a little, almost like an involuntary shrug. "She's already in here, Gary. She's already in this."

He closed his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. He didn't want to talk about Cythera with Thayet. He hesitated for a second and then used her own weapon against her. "Is this about Jonathan?"

"Yes," she answered instantly, surprising him. She sank down into a seat. "You _cannot_ expect to be Jonathan, and you _must not_ expect me to be Cythera."

That floored him.

Really floored him.

The only thing he could do, after several minutes had painfully slunk by, was mumble, "I don't."

Thayet stared at him. Her ivory skin was patchy, red blotches standing out on her cheeks and dark circles rimming her eyes. She was so unlike Cythera that he couldn't imagine how she could possibly act like her.

And he was nothing like Jonathan. Everybody had remarked on it as they had been growing up. Gary lacked Jon's knack with people, his charisma, his astonishing ability to relate. Everybody knew it.

Everybody except, it seemed, for Gary.

"It's because you judge people on their relationships with each other," Thayet said softly, after a moment had passed.

Gary shook his head, frowning thoughtfully. "It's because otherwise, I don't know what to do," he said, equally quietly, feeling it was safe at last to sit down next to her. "It feels like everything I know has just been taken from under me. Jonathan was the only king I've really known. And Cythera-" He snuck a sideways glance at her - "She was the only wife I've - the only woman I've ever been close to."

Thayet nodded, pressing her lips together and eyeing her hands before replying. "I suppose I pushed you too hard."

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. She curled up against him. He purposefully ignored the memories of how many evenings he had whiled away with Cythera like this. "We'll find a way to make this work."

She murmured her agreement, adding, "We should probably also see about getting you a new title. That would help set your role out for the public, at least."

"Do I get to choose my title?" Gary asked, interested.

She leaned back, looking up at his face, smiling. "Hmm... No. You'll choose something with 'almighty' in it, and then we'll be in an almighty _mess_."

They both started apart as the hidden panel to the room slid back and a red-faced Sacherell burst in.

"Majesty!" he panted, bowing hastily. "The Prince is missing."


	10. Playing Parts

Jude and Anya are wonderful for betaing for me :) And you can thank Anya for the lack of cliffhanger at the end. Also, Maddy deserves a Special Mention, having suffered through my angsting for ages, and for having betaed the ending.

* * *

Thayet felt very, very cold all of a sudden. Her heart was pounding too hard in her chest; it was going to crack her ribs, she was sure of it. She placed her hand over it in an attempt to assuage the pain, and fixed Sacherell with a sharp look. "_What_?"

Gary placed a steadying hand on her back. "Sacherell, sit down," he instructed the younger man, indicating a chair. "You look like you're about to collapse."

Thayet opened her mouth to object, then closed it, although she was unable to prevent her whole body from tensing as Sacherell sat.

"There has been no sight of him since this morning." Sacherell hesitated, his eyes flicking over the room. "His maid has vanished as well."

Thayet's throat had constricted to such an extent that only a strangled sob emerged when she tried to speak.

A warm weight settled itself around her shoulders. She noted (with detached amazement) that it was Gary's arm. "Thank you for letting us know, Sacherell," Gary was saying. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..."

Sacherell nodded, the red having faded from his cheeks to leave a grey-white sheen in its wake. He bowed and slid the panel shut behind him.

Thayet shut her eyes, trying to remember to breathe. "I've lost them both."

Gary pulled her close. She could feel him shaking and she buried her face in his shoulder, trying to pretend he was Jonathan for a moment.

It didn't work.

She had to be strong. Now.

Thayet drew away. Not completely; she wanted him to understand that she still needed him, but enough so that only their thighs were touching under layers of cloth. She looked at her lap, watching her knees tremble beneath the heavy skirts.

"We'll call a council meeting," she said, choosing her words slowly and deliberately, hoping they wouldn't offend him. She glanced up at him, struggling to judge his reaction.

Gary nodded and got to his feet, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "That would be best," he agreed. There was a very slight hesitation before he added, "Your Majesty."

She smiled softly at that and in the next second, as he turned his back on her and left, almost choked. She was not supposed to be the regent. Jonathan had spoken of making her his co-regent, but they had barely begun to persuade the peerage. Now, Roald had been taken from her.

She let her head fall into her hands, finding her forehead too hot. She didn't know what to do and she sorely, shamelessly hoped the Council would.

There was a tentative knock on the door. Thayet straightened automatically, composing herself before she called out, "Enter," pleased to discover that she had control of her voice once more. It was important that nobody knew anything was going on until she had reached a decision.

A nervous-looking page entered. He bowed low - a little too low, in fact. By the looks of it, he was trying to introduce his nose to his knees.

"Yes?" she prompted, fighting to keep the impatience from her tone.

"Your Majesty-" he squeaked. Flushing with embarrassment, he stopped and tried again. "Lady Cythera of Elden and Lord Raoul of Goldenlake request an audience with you."

To begin with, it didn't sink in. Then, she blinked at him.

_What?_

It was too ridiculous to be happening.

"Please inform Lady Cythera and Lord Raoul that I am currently unavailable. Then, would you kindly tell Lord Raoul that his presence - and that of any other councillor you happen to meet along the way - is required at a private meeting. If you would, please stress that it is a matter of urgency."

The page nodded and bowed again, before turning on his heel and practically running from the room.

Trust Cythera to turn up _now_. Thayet would wager a sizeable amount of money that her awful sister Roxanne was playing a part in this.

No matter. Neither of them were important right now. All that mattered was getting Roald back.

* * *

It was only now that Thayet was beginning to appreciate what a good marriage she and Gary could have. He sent her a smile as Alanna - the last in - took her seat. It didn't make her knees any weaker, but she did feel a little more comfortable knowing that he at least would be looking out for Roald's best interests.

It was a shame, really, that his former wife had chosen now to make a reappearance.

She rose to her feet, waiting for their attention. "Thank you all for arriving so promptly. We-" She pressed her fingers to her lips, finding her throat had closed up again. "It seems that the Crown Prince has been kidnapped," she managed finally.

Their reactions were as she had expected. For a moment, nothing could be heard but shocked gasps. Then, murmurs raced around the room as speculation began. She waited for them to subside and listen to what else she had to say and, as she did so, she glanced at Duke Gareth.

She had thought that Gary's father would have been in the midst of the discussion, advising that this person could not be guilty because they were currently being investigated for this reason, but that person, they were a possibility, being also incriminated in that incident.

The first thing that struck her was the fact that he didn't look surprised. The second was the look she caught him exchanging with Douglass, who also did not look surprised.

"Thayet?"

She started, ashamed to find that her attention had drifted.

"Alanna was just asking if we knew anything else," Gary prompted her.

"Ah. Yes. Ah." Thayet paused, swallowing hard. "We know very little else, unfortunately. He vanished this morning, alongside his - his maid."

"Who was the maid?"

"Catherine Sewell," Myles replied. "We're tracing her family, finding out who she's connected to."

Thayet nodded, biting her lip. Suddenly realising she was still standing, she sat down, placing her hands flat on the table. They only trembled slightly now.

Gary covered one of her hands with his. "Do you want me to end it?" he murmured, so only she could hear.

She nodded. "Please."

He cleared his throat. "Since we have no further evidence, it seems fruitless to debate who the culprit might be until we do. Might I suggest that we postpone this discussion until later? In the meantime, we can all put our efforts into retrieving the Prince." He hesitated, glancing at Thayet and then continued, "The Queen and I would appreciate your discretion on this delicate issue, if you would be so kind."

She gave him a grateful smile as the others left the room. "Thank you."

"What else are husbands for?" he asked lightly.

She wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, but she was saved from having to by a cough, indicating another's presence.

When she looked up, however, she was no longer sure whether she had been saved or not. Gary was silent on her left. She didn't know how much he knew of Raoul's frequent visits to Meron or if he'd even want to know.

"Raoul," she said quietly, slipping her hand from under Gary's.

"Thayet. May I have a word?"

She considered it for a moment. "No," she replied flatly. "I don't have time for this right now."

Gary sent her a questioning look, which told her more than he'd intended it to.

"I am afraid that Cythera is not my concern."

"Cyth-" Gary began, but cut himself off, giving Raoul a wary look.

Raoul hesitated, looking distinctly awkward. "My apologies, your Majesty," he said formally. "I did not intend to cause offence."

"Good day to you, Lord Raoul," she said, responding in kind.

There was silence as she and Gary were left alone.

"Would you like to tell me what that was about?"

Thayet wet her lips, searching for the best way to phrase it. "Raoul brought Cythera with him to Court. They, ah, requested an audience with me earlier."

When she dared to look at him, his face was carefully blank, making her wonder what expression she'd missed. "Did you grant one?"

"No."

"Right, then." He stood, offering his hand to her. "We should return to your rooms anyway. It may be that whoever took Roald is planning to ransom him, and we'll be easiest to reach from there."


	11. Escapism

Special thanks to Kat for this chapter.

* * *

It took three days for Thayet to consent to see Cythera. At first, Cythera had been offended, but Raoul had explained about Roald's disappearance and urged her to keep trying. Finally, she was granted admittance to the Queen's rooms.

Cythera's first thought upon entering was how much older Thayet was looking. Her friend's face was pinched and drawn, lines of worry lightly scored across her forehead. Before Cythera considered tact, she found herself saying, "You look awful."

The shadow of a smile played around Thayet's lips. "That's hardly surprising."

Cythera pushed her hair behind her ears, determined not to respond. Thayet had ignored her for three days, so she should be the one to make the effort now.

Thayet sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," she offered, sitting down on the chair that Jonathan had favoured, at least whenever Cythera had also been present in the room. Cythera took her usual place, not quite brave enough to sit next to Thayet, not with her in this mood. "I expect you've heard about Roald by now?"

Cythera nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. For some reason, she found she couldn't quite make the right words come.

Thayet eyed her for a second, and then added, "It's not all bad, though. I actually had a member of the peerage ask me for a favour the other day. It appears that they've realised they can't get much done without Royal Consent." She paused, as though allowing Cythera the chance to answer, but she was the one to break the silence once more. "We think we're close to getting them to agree on an appropriate title for Gary and then they might actually listen to one of us for a change."

Cythera tried to make herself reply to that, but her throat had closed up. Thayet had introduced Gary too casually into the conversation - fitting, she supposed, for the amount of time they must spend together now. She wished she could hate Thayet, but she couldn't.

After all, they both knew the pain of losing a child.

"What are you here for, Cythera?" Thayet wanted to know, her sharp eyes fixed on Cythera's.

Cythera paused, looking down, her nails digging further into her palms. She knew the Queen, who was coping perfectly without a husband or heir, would think her weak. "I had a miscarriage." Her voice, which never really sounded like her voice anymore, seemed even less familiar right then. She often pretended she hadn't had a miscarriage - sometimes that she hadn't even been pregnant - and it appeared that her voice at least believed her.

Understanding flickered in Thayet's face and Cythera grit her teeth together, preventing herself from telling Thayet that she _didn't_ understand, that she _couldn't_, that she had no right at all to look like she knew what Cythera was going through.

"Was it Gary's?"

The question, posed so gently, shocked Cythera so much that all she could do was stare for a moment. "How dare you?" she asked fiercely.

Thayet shrugged, her expression becoming impassive once more. "You can't blame me for asking, Cythera," she said calmly. "You've been living at Meron with Raoul almost ever since your marriage ended, and - well, I believe that I'm finding out about the baby before Gary."

"Why should I tell him?" Cythera demanded, her voice climbing an octave. "It's not like we're _married_ anymore, is it? You saw to that."

She didn't think she had ever been so angry. Everything seemed to be trembling - her voice, hands, knees. It was wonderful; she had been longing to scream at Thayet for weeks now.

And yet, it was also oddly unsatisfying. Thayet was sitting there, a frozen look on her face. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, frowning.

They sat there in silence long enough for Cythera to begin to feel horribly guilty.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "I didn't know I was going to do that."

"I think you had better leave," Thayet said flatly, rising. "As soon as possible. Go back to Meron, Cythera."

Cythera bit her lip. If she went back to Meron now, she wouldn't be able to see Gary at all. On the other hand, maybe that would be best - to make as clean a break as she could from this mess. Finally, she nodded, getting to her feet. "I'll leave to-" She stopped suddenly, abruptly, her eyes widening as they fixed on Thayet - or, more specifically, on her swelling stomach.

"What is it, Cythera?" Thayet asked sharply.

Shock, horror and pain flittered across Cythera's face in quick succession as she recoiled from her friend. "You're _pregnant_?" she said hollowly, wrapping her arms around her own flat, empty stomach.

Four years, _four years_ she had tried to give Gary a child, and Thayet managed it in four weeks.

"Cythera, it's not-"

"I think it's _exactly_ what I think it is," Cythera managed, moving towards the door. She only realised she was crying as she fumbled for (and missed) the handle, but the door was opening anyway and suddenly Gary was there.

Her breath caught in her throat and she stumbled back, choking, horribly unsteady. He had stiffened, his eyes were widening and he was reaching out to her, looking concerned. She thought she could hear him calling her name as she shoved past him.

* * *

She had collapsed onto the bed, lying there, curled up, her hands covering her mouth. He bit his lip, feeling like an intruder at the door, but made himself enter and sit down beside her.

"She's pregnant."

He reached out and brushed the stray hairs off her face, noting a few of them had stuck to her tear tracks. "I know."

Cythera shuddered, pressing her face into the bed. "I hate her. Right now."

"I know."

Struck by his inability to say anything or do anything useful, Raoul was debating between asking her if she wanted him to stay or silently slipping out when somebody knocked on the door.

"I'll get that," he said gratefully.

When he opened it, he wished he hadn't. Gary motioned for him to shut the door behind him.

The air in the hallway was decidedly cold as Raoul stepped out. "What did you want?"

Gary smiled thinly. "Just to talk, really. It seems as thought a lot has happened since we last spoke properly. Will you join me?" He didn't give Raoul the chance to respond as he hurried down towards the gardens, not even bothering to hold doors open along the way, but instead allowing them to slam back into Raoul's face.

There was a measured silence once they were both outside, in which Raoul was wondering how much Gary knew, and Gary was simply staring at him. Raoul folded his arms across his chest, determining that the safest option was surely to keep quiet and wishing that he had never become involved in the first place.

"Why did you bring Cythera here, Raoul?" Gary wanted to know.

Raoul frowned, having expected Gary to say several things, but not that. "I didn't bring her anywhere," he said carefully. "I had to return to the palace and she - decided to accompany me so she could - bring you up to date." It sounded pathetic, even to him, sounded weak and awkward, but it was the truth.

Gary snorted, rubbing his face. "You're ridiculous," he informed Raoul, pausing, then adding, "And so is she."

"Don't call her that," Raoul snapped back, his temper rising, pushing past Gary to sit down on the bench. "You have no idea at all of what she's been going through!"

Gary folded his arms across his chest, continuing to eye Raoul steadily. "So it seems. I'd appreciate being enlightened now, though, if you wouldn't mind. Maybe you'd also be so kind as to tell me exactly why I wasn't informed that Cythera was carrying my child at all?"

Raoul shrugged, looking away from his old friend. This wasn't fair, but he knew that if he didn't say anything then Cythera would have to. "She was afraid you might go back to her." He watched Gary for a moment. "Will you? Now you know she's not barren?"

"Thayet asked that," Gary said quietly, sitting down next to Raoul on the bench and letting his head fall into his hands. "She said she'd release me or some nonsense. I thought being barren was the excuse and not the cause."

"What's your answer?"

Gary glanced at Raoul briefly, and shut his eyes again, but not before Raoul caught the same haunted look that flickered in and out of Cythera's eyes. There was a long pause, before Gary said, "Take her."

"_What_?"

"Take her away." Gary leaned back, bracing his head with his hands, in control once more. "That's what you want, isn't it? That's what you've always wanted." His face, when Raoul chanced a look, was completely neutral, matching his voice. "Now you have my permission."

Raoul froze. "What are you talking about?"

Gary let out a sigh. "Sweep Cythera off her feet, Raoul. Back to Goldenlake with the both of you." He stood, dusting off his clothes. "You can consider that an order from the Prince Consort."


	12. Bittersweet Remains

Thanks for the reviews, and to Anya for betaing and countless others for looking it over - namely, Gin, Kirsty and Kat.

Maddy deserves her own special section - she's been listening to my complaints about this fic for well over a year now. I love you to bits for it :)

* * *

"He told her to leave?" Douglass asked in wide-eyed incredulity. 

Sacherell shook his head, savouring the moment a little longer. "He _made_ Raoul take her away. Said he couldn't bear to be near her or something."

"I can't believe it," Douglass said, shifting position on the bed. "That's not like Gary at all." He looked over at Sacherell, reaching over to take his hand. "What are our knight-masters coming to, eh?"

Sacherell smiled slightly, pulling Douglass close. "I wish I knew."

"I might go and visit Cythera next week, to see how she's coping with all of this," Douglass said thoughtfully, wrapping an arm around Sacherell's waist. "She could probably do with our company."

"She'll have to make do with just yours," Sacherell said awkwardly, trying to lighten the weight of what he was saying by toying with Douglass's sleeve.

"And why would that be?" enquired Douglass in a would-be casual tone, attempting to give Sacherell a mock-stern look. He had a feeling that he was not going to like the answer one bit.

Sacherell tightened his hold on Douglass. "I'm sorry, Dougy, I really am. I have to see what I can find out about Roald. It's the only thing that will keep Thayet happy, at least for a little while. She's been talking about sending Numair to Carthak."

"Hang Thayet," muttered Douglass, tugging at the folds of Sacherell's clothes. "It's not fair."

"That's treasonous, and I'll hurry back," Sacherell promised, planting a messy kiss on Douglass's neck.

"You'd better," Douglass replied, biting his lip. "I can't say I won't have run off with Duke Gareth by the time you've decided to return to me."

Sacherell grinned, snaking an arm around Douglass's neck. "He wouldn't dare to so much as touch you."

"Is that right?" Douglass asked archly. "And why would that be?"

"That would be because you're mine," answered Sacherell, moving in for a kiss.

* * *

She had been trying not to pay the door too much attention, but she couldn't help flinching at every little sound. When it finally began to open, she got to her feet, abandoning any semblance of nonchalance. 

Gary raised an eyebrow at her, pushing the door shut behind him. "Has anything happened?"

Thayet shook her head. "Nothing that I know of," she answered, shifting weight awkwardly. She was still not sure how much she could admit to with Gary. Hesitantly, she added, "I wasn't sure if you'd be coming back."

"I just needed a little time," Gary replied, leaning against the wall. He looked pale and drawn, and she wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure of the right words. "I, ah, didn't want to risk coming across either of them."

She nodded in understanding, taking a step towards him and stopping. "What happened, exactly?"

"I asked them to leave."

"Oh, you 'asked'? Is that how we're terming royal commands now?" she enquired, a slight smile crossing her lips.

He slanted a look at her and then smiled ruefully at his feet. "How did you find out about that?"

"Oh, you've lived in the palace long enough to know about walls and their ears by now," Thayet answered, waving the question away. "Somebody sneezes in the South Wing, and it's all over the stables once the hour's over. Did you put her right? About the baby being Jon's?"

"I didn't see her," Gary confessed, his eyebrows drawing together. "They'll figure it out when they're thinking rationally again. I'm, ah, sorry I left you. I know I promised I wouldn't."

She shrugged. "I survived," she said lightly. "I'm sorry too. About Cythera."

He nodded, bowing his head. "I'll survive as well, I'm sure," he replied. "It'll be - better, I think, now that I know she can't just turn up any time. I won't be, well, expecting to see her. Unfortunately, it means I can expect a visit from Roxanne, but I'm sure I can survive that too."

She half-smiled. "You could always send her to the Copper Isles by order of the Prince Consort," she suggested.

"Don't give me ideas," Gary warned. "I've been dreaming of this sort of power for exactly these reasons for far too long."

"Roald will be glad to know that his country is in such safe hands."

Gary nodded, not fooled by her attempt at a casual tone. "We'll find him."

Thayet bit her lip, tempted to tell him how scared she was that they wouldn't find him, that she'd lost her little boy forever.

She didn't. They shared so much - the loss of a spouse, the loss of _Jon_, the weight of the kingdom, and now even the loss of a child. But even that wasn't quite the same. Her Roald could be _anywhere_, and Gary hadn't even known that Cythera was pregnant until she had miscarried.

So, instead, she smiled bravely up at him and lied, "I know."

* * *

"You don't have to leave," Douglass announced, bursting into the room. 

Sacherell frowned, dropping his book on the floor because he never got much reading done when Douglass was around and he had given up trying long before. "That's good to know, I would hate to have to leave a room every time you entered it. It would prove very inconvenient for the sort of things that I have in mind for us to do together in a room like this."

Douglass grinned, flopping down onto the bed next to Sacherell. "Well, now that you don't have to leave, we have the time to do the sort of things that you have in mind. If, that is, they're like the sort of things that _I _have in mind."

"Were you ever planning on explaining yourself, or are you in one of those moods?" Sacherell wanted to know.

"I was planning on explaining myself immediately, thank you very much, only _somebody_ decided to try to be clever. It isn't becoming, dearest; you know I'm not after you because of your conversation." Douglass paused, tracing a path up Sacherell's bare arm with his fingertips. "You don't need to go to Carthak, or wherever it was you were planning to go after all."

Sacherell raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that right? Is this another one of Lord Theodore's decrees? Am I not allowed to leave the country for a selected amount of time again?"

Douglass pushed at him. "Be serious, Sach," he implored. "I spoke to the Duke. I've fixed it, you don't need to go."

Sacherell sat upright. "You mean they've found Roald?"

Douglass looked the shiftiest Sacherell had ever seen him - and, considering their friendship was comprised of explaining away collapsed stables, that alone was a definite cause for concern. "Well, yes. In a manner of speaking."


	13. No Return

And we're **finished**! Most especial thanks to Fenella and Quatre-Sama for betaing this for me, you're both completely wonderful. Thanks also to Kat, Jude and Maddy for humouring and helping along the way!

I hope you've had as much fun reading this as I've had writing it.

* * *

"Sacherell?" 

Sacherell winced and turned to face Gary. The two hadn't spoken much since the annulment; Sacherell had always been Cythera's and Douglass had been Gary's. That was what made this situation so hard - if it had been Cythera, he would have told her without thinking twice. But it was Gary, and Gary without Cythera, Gary who had sent Cythera away.

Cyth would still want Gary to be told – even if it did mean betraying Douglass. This wasn't fair.

He forced a painful smile. "Did you want something?"

"I wanted to know if we're any closer to finding Roald. Myles seems to have developed an ability to disappear if he gets wind of my coming to visit him," Gary said, offering Sacherell a wry smile that the latter neglected to share.

"Ah, well, the thing is, Gary," Sacherell began awkwardly.

Gary, who was beginning to look more and more like his father with every passing day, fixed Sacherell with a look that made him feel like he was confessing to stealing the Duchess's underthings again. "What is it?"

"I think you need to sit down."

* * *

Gary drummed his fingers on the table, glancing around at the others in the room. Sacherell was the only one who looked remotely nervous; he kept twitching away from Douglass's subtle touches. The beginnings of a frown were becoming evident in the blond man's brow, but he simply shifted away from Sacherell, evidently deciding they could discuss it later. 

Finally, Thayet entered, slanting Gary a curious look, but otherwise looking entirely unruffled as she made her way to her seat.

Gary cleared his throat. "I called this meeting to discuss our next steps in recovering Roald." He paused, but there was no reaction. "It seems obvious, to me at least, that Carthak has taken him, considering we haven't received anything in the way of bargaining. I therefore propose we issue them with a demand for his return, stating that if they do not comply, we shall be forced to declare war."

He could see Thayet was about to voice a protest and stepped on her foot very lightly. She closed her mouth abruptly.

"That hardly seems practical," Duke Gareth pointed out. "It will be seen as far too rash, and we will be hard-pressed to get support for it from our neighbouring countries."

"Besides, we don't even know if Carthak has Roald," Douglass interjected, giving the Duke a sideways look.

That was it.

The proof that Sacherell had told him the truth.

Gary smiled thinly. "No, we don't, do we? In fact, we're fairly sure that they don't have him. I wonder, Douglass, if there's anything you'd care to share with the rest of us."

Douglass flicked a barely perceptible glance at Sacherell, whose shoulders lifted a fraction. "I can't imagine what you mean."

"Father?" Gary enquired, spreading his hands out. "Can you imagine what I might mean? No news from, say, Dunlath?"

Duke Gareth inclined his head at his son. "I would hate to interrupt when you're doing so well."

"I'm only guessing, of course," Gary said, addressing the Duke. "It's really nothing but a hunch of mine, but I'd say that Roald is at Dunlath, because they're next in the line for the throne, correct? So they benefit most from taking him. The magical shield there would go a long way in explaining why scrying for him has been ineffective. This _might_ be going a little too far, but I think they may have tried to frame the Bazhir for the kidnapping, which would be when the Voice got hold of it and sent word here." He paused. "I think I want to ask what you were thinking by keeping this from us."

Duke Gareth shrugged. "We needed to verify Geoffrey's information first, so as not to excite the Queen unnecessarily. He has not always been the most reliable person, as you know, despite the position he now holds as the Voice. You had other matters to attend to; I was simply looking to take a weight off your mind."

"And that would be why you arranged for the nobility to attend to you instead of Gary and Thayet as well?" Sacherell put in, apparently now quite at his ease.

"_Sacherell_," Douglass hissed.

"It's not your place, Dougy," replied Sacherell.

"I think that's the most sensible thing I've heard since setting foot in this room," Thayet announced, rising. "I appreciate your - well, we'll call it concern. However, since it seems to have escaped everybody's attention, I feel the need to remind you all one more time that I remain Queen and that Gary and I are regents in my son's minority."

"Allow me to assure you that I-"

Thayet raised a hand, cutting the Duke off. "No. Enough now. Jonathan saw me as fit to rule this kingdom. From now on, I want it to be understood that everything passes through me or, failing that, through Gary until Roald comes of age." She looked around the room in the direct way Jonathan used to have, the one that left no room for debate. Finally, she gestured to the door. "For now, that will be the end of it. You may leave."

* * *

"What exactly did you think you were doing?" 

"I might ask you the same question," Sacherell replied calmly.

"That's not an answer, Sacherell!" Douglass hissed, slamming the door behind him. Sacherell still didn't look back; he was rummaging through Douglass's wardrobe for something. Really, the wardrobe belonged to both of them, as did the one in Sacherell's official room, but they kept the pretence up for the sake of propriety.

Sacherell sank back onto his heels. "Don't push this, Dougy."

"I think you passed up your right to tell me what not to do when you told Gary everything," Douglass said coldly, crossing the room to sit on their bed. "I trusted you with that information, Duke Gareth-"

"And I think you passed up your right to order me around when you as good as committed treason." Sacherell got to his feet, his tone and air still exuding nonchalance, but refusing to face Douglass.

Douglass faltered. Usually by this point in their fights, Sacherell would be apologising and nuzzling Douglass's neck. "Sacherell, you know it's not that simple. You don't understand what-"

"No," Sacherell interrupted. "I don't understand what you've been doing, Dougy. I don't think even you understand." He sighed and turned around, and Douglass waited for the apology and the ensuing kisses. "I don't think it's working."

Douglass frowned, perplexed. "What's not working?"

"This. Us. It's not – Dougy, you've been so different since Jon died. I can't quite explain it. It's like the country is the only thing on your mind and you've forgotten how to consider other people's feelings."

Douglass was trying to concentrate on breathing. It felt almost like a dream, like a horrible, sluggish dream. He looked up at Sacherell. "Are you saying that I haven't been giving you enough attention?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all." Sacherell sat down on the bed, taking Douglass's hands in his. "Look at how you've treated Thayet, Dougy. And Gary! I never thought – you of all people. I know you say you were just trying to help, but… Imagine – imagine if I died and they made you marry Alanna, and then took Lord Theodore away from you."

"Don't make jokes," Douglass said thickly. "I can't take it."

"I still love you."

Douglass shut his eyes, feeling the tears about to come. "Then don't leave me."

"I have to," Sacherell answered, withdrawing his hands and rising. "I feel like I don't know you like I used to. You need to learn how to think about other people again. I – I _can't_ stay, Dougy."

At the final use of his nickname, Douglass winced. "You can't leave," he replied, a note of desperation raising the pitch of his voice. "I can't get through a week without you, Sach. This doesn't feel right, it isn't fair."

"You're right," Sacherell agreed. "Nothing about this is right or fair, but it _is _necessary."

"Where are you going?"

"To Cythera." Sacherell paused, his hand hovering by the door handle. "Be good, won't you?" he requested, in the half-teasing way they had used when their knights had taken them on errands. The familiarity of it squeezed at Douglass's heart.

"I can't promise anything," Douglass muttered, responding in kind.

Sacherell hesitated, and then said, "I am sorry."

"I know."

* * *

Gary closed the door behind him, smiling at Thayet. "Well, I think Father's certainly less keen on you bearing his grandchildren now." 

She half-smiled, rubbing her face. "You can tell me I did the wrong thing."

"That would be wrong of me," he answered, taking a seat next to her.

Thayet frowned, looking at Gary through the gaps in her fingers. "They'll resent us now," she pointed out.

Gary shook his head, leaning forward to prise her hands away from her face. "Father's not like that," he informed her. "He might sulk around for a few days, but really, his loyalty is to the Crown. I don't think he'd be able to cope without it."

"We should give him some sort of new office," Thayet said thoughtfully. "That way we can control what he's doing and he can still be involved."

He nodded, suddenly acutely aware that they were holding hands. "That's, ah, an excellent, ah, suggestion."

"Yes. Ah." Thayet paused, biting her lip. "We should probably – probably…" Her brow furrowed, and she slipped her hand free of Gary's, ostensibly to tidy up her hair.

He cleared his throat. "I was certain that Carthak would have had some role to play in Roald's kidnapping. It's hard to believe it was all Dunlath in the end, although the whole thing was rather clumsily executed in the end. It's a shame, really - it's such a pleasant fief, but you can't let treason slide just because it's aesthetically pleasing."

Thayet half-smiled. "No. It might be an idea to invite Geoffrey here as a gesture of good will," she said thoughtfully. "If he can spare the time from his work as the Voice – I imagine the post has become rather more hands-on than when Jon-" Her voice broke and she pressed her lips together.

Gary shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea," he agreed. "We need to maintain the connection between the Crown and the Bazhir as much as possible."

"And make sure Geoffrey approaches us next time and not your father," Thayet put in.

"He will do," Gary answered, rubbing his chin. "Geoffrey has Lord Martin's love of order."

"Then his current post is well-fitting. I can't say it would suit me; I'm not sure I'd like being able to see into people's minds, not to mention-"

She went silent then, and Gary glanced at her curiously. She had begun to tremble and was staring with undue determination at the opposite wall.

"Not to mention what?" he enquired.

Thayet looked at him, as though she was not entirely sure what she was seeing. She wet her lips carefully. "Not to mention the knowledge of when you're going to die," she said quietly.

And so, at last, she knew.

"Thayet, I-" he began, but there was no real way to explain what he needed to say to her.

"You knew, didn't you?" she asked, in the same soft tones. "About Jon? _He_ - knew."

He didn't need to confirm it – she had already guessed everything. He sat there, mutely staring at the floor, waiting for her to order him to explain or to tell him to get out of her sight.

It was some time before he realised that she had already left.


End file.
